Hey everyone! This chapter is honestly not my best work, but I am actively trying to overcome writer's block. I apologize if this chapter is not written very fluidly and is considered choppy. Also… the dramatic chapters are almost over; we are almost to the climax! Please R&R!

I cannot express my gratitude for everyone who has followed me on this journey for this story! Honestly, sometimes it's been hard to update this story and continue to write it. There were times I felt like giving up, but it's because of you guys that continue to inspire me to write! Thank you so much for all your support, it has meant a lot to me!

*I own nothing*

WARNING: Eating disorders will be mentioned and played out. Please do not read if this bothers or triggers you in any way.

TMNT

It was a nice chilly afternoon; the grass flew with every breeze while children laughed as they played on the vibrant playground. Sand crunched, kites flew, adults sat down watching their kids run around in bathing suits and summer clothing.

"Mikey catch!" Leo yelled, "far right!"

The young seven-year-old boy took off running towards the end of the sidewalk. But as the football came crashing down, Mikey jumped a little too far. He flew onto the pavement as the gravel scratched his skin, his pants ripped from the impact.

The young child looked down and bit his lip. There was no way he would cry in front of his older brothers, not today, not ever. Blood poured from the wound, pain radiated throughout his leg and skull.

'Your ok, just breathe,' Mikey told himself, but tears still flew down his face. He was a child, but he wasn't allowed to cry. He might've if he had felt confident about himself, but that would be far from the goal.

"Are you ok?" a voice asked above Mikey's head.

Mikey looked up to see a kid around the same age as him, with blond hair and blue eyes. His skin was abnormally pale.

"Yeah," Mikey said softly, "Its only a small scrape."

"Looks more like a 'small' scrape, its still bleeding. My moms a retired nurse, I would know." The child smiled brightly with large dimples. He offered his small hand. "Name's Oliver, what's yours?"

Mikey took Olivers hand and grimaced once placed back on his feet. "I'm Michealangelo, Mikey for short."

"Cool name," Oliver bent down to Mikey's knee level, "are you sure you don't want to get that looked at? My mom would if you allowed her to."

"Yeah, I'm fine, I'll have my older brothers check. Plus, I wouldn't want to bother her." Although Mikey had no intent to show his brothers his newly acquired battle scar.

Oliver waved his hand. "It wouldn't bother her at all, she's sitting at the table over there," He pointed towards a picnic bench with a woman with brown hair and blond streaks. "She was a nurse, its what she does."

Mikey thought about it, his brothers would ask about his injury and bother him for hours of end. Or he could accept the help that was offered to him.

"Fine," Mikey sighed, "I'll let your mom take a look. But I have to tell my older brothers first."

His new friend gave an iconic cheeky smile and grabbed Mikey's hand. "I'll come with you; I wouldn't want to leave my new friend without a guide."

It was that same chilly afternoon, except there weren't any kids playing outside. The snow had come in early than expected and left the park looking like a winter wonderland.

But even if it had been sunny as hopefully been predicted, Oliver wouldn't have stepped foot outside. Frankly, he hadn't stepped outside for days, or weeks.

Ever since his best friend Mikey had been hospitalized, nothing seemed happy anymore. Sleeping, drinking water, and skipping out on meals had become normal for him. Even staying awake was miserable. If Oliver could have it his way, he would sleep forever and never wake up again.

In his mind it wasn't like anyone would care, and even if that steered far for the truth, Oliver simply didn't want to exist anymore. Without his best friend since he was seven, Oliver didn't have a purpose anymore. Everything he did was for Mikey, everything he lived was for Mikey.

But maybe his purpose wasn't really his overall goal, maybe it was something more. Maybe it was just trying to exist, which seemed extra hard at the moment.

"Oliver, its time for dinner sweetheart," His mother called out from downstairs.

Oliver didn't move, moving meant fear. Fear meant death.

"OLIVER! Your mom called you down! Get down here now or I'll come up there myself."

The young teen sighed and lifted himself from his bed. His father always made good on his threats; he didn't have to think twice as he walked down the stairs with slumped shoulders.

His dad was standing in front of the table. "Well… look who decided to show up."

"I'm here, can we start dinner?" Oliver really did not feel like talking to his father, or anyone at that. But his father did not have any of it.

"No, not until you tell us what's wrong," His mother came walking over by his father, hand in hand. "As parents we deserve to know what's bothering you."

"I'm fine," Oliver said softly.

The older women shook her head. "No, you're not sweetheart, you're not fine."

"I'm fine," Oliver snarled. His anger started to rise without his consent. He was fine, Mikey was fine, he was fine…fine…fine. He wasn't in pain, no he was far from it, he was happy and joyful without a care in the world.

So why couldn't his parents see that?

His dad walked forward and placed a comforting hand on Olivers shoulders. "Son…please, allow yourself to see the way we see you. You look horrible and are not acting like yourself."

"I'm fine."

"Sweetheart please…."

"I'm fine, I'm happy, see," Oliver smiled wide, "I'm F.I.N.E! See my smile?! I'm sooo joyful right now!"

Nobody spoke, and frankly, that almost made Oliver go crazy. He was acting insane, and sure he didn't feel like his casual self, but it was his reality.

"Oliver…look at yourself. What's bothering you? Is it Mikey…"

Something in Oliver snapped at the thought of his best friend. It was as if everything shut down the moment his mother said his best friends name, all the stress, depression, anxiety, all came crashing down on him in one huge wave.

Oliver looked over and punched the wall, he needed to hit something, anything. His father and mother jumped from the sudden impulse but neither moved. If it was the fear paralyzing their bodies or the need for comfort for their son, they would probably never know. But standing in the same spot, his father asked his wife to move to another room.

The women nodded and walked off. Then came the hard part, which neither would prepare for. When it came to Oliver, the boy had never had terrible anger management. So, it was quite surprising to see his son in such a state.

"Oliver," He said softly, "Please calm down."

Oliver looked over and saw the fear in his fathers' eyes. He hadn't meant to scare anyone, but his anger and fears had become one and taken over. Though now as the adrenaline wore off, Oliver was brought down to his knees.

Tears streamed down his face as he cupped his head. He was terrified of the future, so much that he didn't want any part in it. His best friend could be dead, and he wouldn't know, his future in football could be ruined by his depression and he would never care.

Why had life brought him to this point?

"I feel so lost dad," Oliver sobbed.

His father came rushing over and enveloped his son in a warm embrace. "Me to Oliver, but I have you and your mother. And just like how you have us, we're going to go through this together."

"But I don't want to, burdening you guys is the last thing I want to do."

"You're our son, it's our job, and we love it," Oliver's dad squeezed Oliver even tighter, "Mikey will live, he's a strong little fella."

Oliver gave a watery chuckle. "Yeah, he is. But dad…your serious about Mikey living right?"

"Well, I can't promise anything, but I have a strong feeling he'll pull through."

The young teen leaned into his father's chest. In all truthfulness, he was horror-stricken when told the devastating news, and was still quite frankly that way. And as much as Oliver could've said that this whole experience with his mom and dad had brought him hope. He would be lying. He was still devastated and depressed, nothing would ever change that.

But at least he could be sad in front of his parents.

"Hey Olive?"

Oliver looked up. "Yeah dad?"

"I hate to break up our little moment, but your phone is ringing."

"Who's the caller Id?"

"It says Leo Hamoto."

Oliver sat up with a pumping heart. "Give to me dad, please."

His dad followed his instructions and walked out of the room. Meanwhile, Oliver took a deep breath and answered the phone call. Bringing the phone up to his ear, Oliver answered intently.

"Hey, Oliver…It's Leo."